Honest Conversation
by rosabelle317
Summary: Sharon and Rusty talk about chess. And also themselves.


**Notes:** Heyyyy. It's been awhile. I moved twice in three months (not recommended) and ran into a bad case of writer's block. So this is a little rough in places, but it's better than not writing at all and I'm trying to snap myself out of it. This one was prompted by Lizinnv, who noticed we haven't seen Rusty playing chess so much recently.

 **Honest Conversation**

Sharon almost snuck up on him.

She didn't mean to, Rusty knew that. But he was so intent on what he was doing that he didn't hear her come in and when he finally noticed her, she was standing two feet in front of him wearing her jacket draped over her arm and a warm yet worn expression. He jumped, the chess piece in his hand scraping against the table as he jerked backwards.

"I didn't mean to startle you." She held her shoes in one hand too, he saw. "You're concentrating. Tough game?"

"Sort of." His moment of panic over, Rusty scooted his chair forward again as he frowned at the board in front of him, the pieces laid out in a reconstruction of the board in Dr. Joe's office. "We might have time to finish tomorrow. We just talked more than usual last week."

He held his breath, but Sharon didn't ask. He'd probably tell her, if she did. There hadn't even been anything big on his mind. He'd just spent five extra minutes talking through his indecision about whether or not he wanted to try joining the school paper again or if he'd rather keep working on his own projects, and come to no conclusion.

Sharon just smiled at him. "I haven't seen you play in awhile."

Rusty shrugged. "I haven't really felt like playing in awhile."

"Have you missed it?"

"Yeah," he said. "And no."

It sort of annoyed him that Sharon seemed to think that made sense. She didn't _always_ have to be right. But she just smiled at him again, before setting her shoes down near her chair and going into the kitchen. Rusty went back to the board then. He didn't need to watch her. The sounds were familiar enough, the faucet running as Sharon filled her electric kettle, the quiet hiss as the water heated, and the soft rustling of cardboard as she decided which tea she wanted tonight.

He experimented with a few moves, weighing the benefits to checking with his remaining knight instead of a rook. Either way, he thought he'd still lose.

He was still debating when Sharon joined him, mug in hand. "So?" she said, settling into her usual chair.

"I'm not sure," he told her. "I feel like he's setting me up."

"Ah." Sharon blew on her tea to cool it.

Rusty made a face at her. "It's what he _does_." And, _fine_ , usually it was to Rusty's own psychological benefit or personal enlightenment or... whatever, but that's what it was.

"So you've said." She sounded dry, but some of the lines in her face disappeared.

He felt a few twinges of guilt then that he hadn't asked how her day was. "Did you finish your case?"

"Sort of." He saw exhaustion return to her face. "I was hoping we would be, but we're still negotiating a deal."

"Oh," he said. That would annoy her. Sharon liked things to be wrapped up neatly before she went home every day. It drove her crazy, going into tomorrow with things left unfinished.

"But—" She smiled at him again. "I'm home in time for dinner tonight, so there's that. I missed you yesterday."

Rusty didn't stop by Sharon's office every afternoon anymore. He had classes most days, and he had homework to do, and... he wasn't sure if they were friends yet, but lately, he'd started spending time with some of his classmates outside of class. He usually went up to say hi to her and everyone on the days he had his appointments with Dr. Joe, but for the most part, he stayed away. And it was nice, to have that part of his life that was separate from hers, but at the same time... they were his friends too and he missed them, especially Buzz and the lieutenant, and when Sharon hardly came home for days at a time, he missed her too.

"Yeah." It never quite felt like home when Sharon wasn't there.

Sharon's look was warm as she reached over, her hand settling briefly on his wrist. "Speaking of dinner..."

"I haven't eaten yet, either." He knew what she was going to ask. "Well—I had some pizza before I came home, but that was like, an hour ago."

"I see." Sharon's lip twitched. She did that a lot around him. It used to bother him, before he'd figured out that her amusement was a sign of her affection for him. "If you can tear yourself away from plotting your next move, we can see about some food."

"It probably doesn't matter, anyway," he told her. "I think I'm going to lose."

"I'm not sure I can be of any help when I've only beaten you... oh, twice." She gave him a teasing smile. "I'm still not sure you weren't going easy on me."

The first time, she'd been trying to distract him from his nerves the night before he'd retaken the SAT.

The second time had been after one of his visits to his other mom in jail had gone... badly. He couldn't even remember what that fight had been about now, only Sharon trying to cheer him up afterwards.

"You know I wasn't." He didn't think Sharon would appreciate that. "But, sometimes, when I'm not thinking right, it... helps. Somehow."

"It's a good outlet for you."

"I think that's why I haven't played in awhile," he said. "Mostly just with Dr. Joe now."

Despite her talk of dinner, Sharon stayed where she was, her head tilting at him in question. "Oh?"

"I guess, before—" He shrugged. "There were a lot of things I didn't wanna think about. I wanted to think about chess. It was easier. And... I'm good at it. I'm really good at it."

He'd needed something to make him feel good about himself, and not a lot to choose from.

Sharon nodded. "And now?"

"Like, I still _like_ chess," he said. "But I can think about the other things now."

"Yes." Sharon still made no move to get up. "There are things it takes time to face."

"You were right, though."

He saw her smile. "About?"

"Running away wouldn't have helped," he said. "What I wanted to run away from was me."

"Ah." Sharon's smile faded. "I find that's often the case."

Rusty wondered if he would ever know Sharon's whole story. He'd been curious for... awhile, now. Since before she'd adopted him, but ever since he'd gotten into writing, ever since he'd pieced together Mariana's story and started thinking about his own life and how Sharon fit into that, Rusty was starting to think about how _he_ fit into _Sharon's_ story. Emily would probably tell him, if he asked. But then he thought about how he'd feel if Sharon went to his mom looking to find out something about _him_ , and... asking Emily wasn't quite like that, that'd be more like him asking Jack, but he still didn't think Sharon would love that.

But sometimes, he thought about all of the advice she'd given him, and all of the things that she understood, and how _patient_ she'd been with him in the beginning—not that he'd recognized it as patience, then—and... he wondered.

"Rusty?" Sharon's eyes were narrowed in concern now.

"I'm all right," he told her. He hesitated. He was probably allowed to ask, but he wasn't sure she'd answer. "It's just..."

"Yes?"

"You... you get it." There. That wasn't even _really_ asking. "You just... you really get it, sometimes."

Sharon was quiet for a long time. Rusty watched her curl her fingers around her mug, shifting it slightly from hand to hand, sitting quietly because he couldn't believe Sharon was _finally_ going to answer a question—but she _was_ going to, right, because otherwise she would've just told him it was none of his business. She had no problem with that.

"I considered leaving LA," she told him finally, to his amazement. "For a little while."

"When?"

"Oh..." she said, turning her mug a quarter circle. "My kids were still young. I'd thought that, things being... what they were... a fresh start would help."

"But you didn't go." His voice came out quiet, and he was almost afraid to speak at all. Sharon was talking about herself.

"No." She shrugged. "I thought about all of my options, and decided that the best thing was to stay. Because—" She hesitated, then twisted the mug some more. "What I wanted to get away from wasn't Jack, or the job, or anything else. I wanted to get away from myself. The feeling that I'd failed, that would've followed me anywhere."

"Yeah." Rusty stared hard at the center of the chess board. "It's like that."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sharon take a sip of her tea.

He thought of something then, an answer to the question he still asked himself all the time. "Do you think that's why my mom does drugs? I mean," he added, when Sharon frowned at him, "I know we can't _know_ , not really, but..."

She gave him the sad look, the same one he'd seen that time she'd explained to him what was wrong with the prescription his mother had asked him to fill. "It's likely part of it," she told him. "But _you_ are not why."

"I know."

He even believed it now. Sometimes.

"We were always running away from something," he said. "I used to think that was just what people did." He paused, debating how much he wanted to tell her. "Dr. Joe says I'm allowed to understand something and be mad about it at the same time."

Sharon nodded.

"My mom, her parents kicked her out." Rusty wasn't sure that he was doing a great job explaining, but Sharon nodded again. "I know what that feels like. And then, if I'd stayed out there, maybe I would've ended up like her."

He'd told himself he'd never touch anything, but he'd told himself he'd never do a lot of things that he'd done.

"I think it's fair to say your mother was in a great deal of pain, and still is." Sharon seemed to understand what he was trying to say. "Jack loves our kids. I know he does, and I know how much it hurts him that he disappointed them. But it's still very difficult for me to forgive him for that."

"I'm not mad at my mom," he said. "Not all the time. Just... whenever _she_ gets mad because I don't trust her."

Sharon nodded. "It's difficult," she repeated. "Being in that position."

"Yeah."

He didn't usually talk about this stuff with Sharon. Rusty wondered if he should start. Before, he hadn't wanted to talk to anyone. Then later, once what Sharon thought of him had started to matter, he hadn't wanted to _her_ specifically, and now... he didn't feel like he had to worry about hiding parts of himself anymore and talking now, like this, he felt... understood.

"But even when I'm mad at her, I still want her to know that she doesn't _have_ to keep running." He guessed she was doing better now, but he wasn't sure how long that would last. "And... I don't think she does."

"I hope that she figures it out." Sharon always said things like that. It was why he talked to her about his other mom, and why he never talked to his other mom about Sharon. "I'm very glad that _you_ did."

He couldn't help rolling his eyes at her, but she shook her head. "I am," she said. "And now I really _would_ like to eat, but after—" She gestured at the chess board between them. "Would you like to play? If you don't mind losing this arrangement."

"I took a picture," he said. "In Dr. Joe's office. That's how I knew how to set it up."

"So? What do you say?"

Rusty looked back at the board, then back up at his mother. "Sounds fun."

"I'm going to go get changed." Sharon set down her mug, reaching down to retrieve her shoes before she stood. "Think about what you want to eat, okay?"

"'kay." Rusty watched her walk away. "Hey, Sharon?"

She turned back.

"Thanks. For..." He wasn't sure how to finish. But Sharon just nodded, and he knew she understood.

"Anytime."


End file.
